Page 18 of Rescued By the Ranger

RHODES

I’m up early,showered and making pancakes with Jazzy sitting on the counter alternating blueberries and chocolate chips into her mouth when I turn my back. I started a fire in the bedroom last night and decided to let Leesa sleep in this morning.

Having her wrapped in my arms for hours while I just listened to the world turn, brought back pieces of me that I never thought would return.

My heart. My hope. My happiness.

I closed myself off after my guys passed away, blaming myself for their demise, but last night showed me that I can be there for someone. I can redeem myself to be a better man. What happened to my fellow soldiers wasn’t my fault and they would never want me to drown in my sorrow.

As the pancakes sizzle on the griddle, filling the house with a comforting aroma, Jazzy giggles with delight at the makeshift pancake stack she’s creating. I can’t help but smile at her infectious laughter, her bright eyes reflecting the sunshine coming through the window.

All of last night’s worries seem less in the light of the day.

When we’re at the kitchen table, both of us acting like we haven’t had food in months, Jazzy takes a drink of orange juice that I found in shelf stable plastic containers in the cabinet.

“Mr. Rhodes?—”

“Jazzy, you can just call me Rhodes, that’s my first name.”

“Like the roads you drive on?”

I pause. She needs something to relate my unique name to. That’s cute. “Yes, multiple roads.”

“That’s a neat name.”

“Well, thank you. What did you want to know?”

“Do you think my mom will stop being sad?”

I pause with a forkful of pancake. “She’s been sad?”

“Sometimes. I try to make her happy, but sometimes I can’t.”

I set down my fork. “Jazzy, she’s going to be okay. I think I can truly say that your mommy will be a little happier today.” I see Leesa out of the corner of my eye and she smiles wide.

“Good morning!” she says and Jazzy smiles at her, too.

“Morning, Mommy. Rhodes made pancakes and sausage.”

“Sounds delicious.” She loads up a plate and comes to the table.

“Can we go play in the snow?” she asks Leesa.

Leesa’s eyes meet mine and I can see the silent question—Is it safe?

I nod. “I’d be glad to go play in the snow with you, Jazzy.”

“Really? Do you know how to make snow angels?” And this will begin the investigation of my skills.

“I do.”

“And can you build a fort made of snow?”

I stifle a giggle. “I think I could, not sure we’ll have time or energy.”

“Right. But you’re not old. Mom said so.”

Leesa rolls her eyes. “Never forgets anything.”

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